I'm not sure, but I think I'm building myself a house. The roof went up first, which lent an air of optimism to the proceedings, but now the windows keep complaining that they've no walls to sleep in. Sleep? Who needs sleep? The bricklayer is coming early, and I expect the garden path to be meandering by noon!
And really, who needs a window to block the view, anyway?
The truth is, that roof isn't going anywhere. Even now, as a high wind hitches its way across the lake, bending silhouettes of dune grass, pine. My roof is restless as a sail, and I hear it - twirling shingles unnerving the blueprint. What say you now, windows, to this new marvel - a skylight, gracious as a sieve?
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